


Bruises

by ackermom



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dubious Consent, M/M, Nothing explicit, Pre-Canon, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 17:51:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11190249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ackermom/pseuds/ackermom
Summary: He's talking about the red lines that the 3DMG has left behind on their skin, but Farlan knows exactly where those bruises live, and he knows when Levi is lying.





	Bruises

**Author's Note:**

> this is the kind of bullshit that belongs in 2014

It’s not like Levi to skip breakfast. He takes his tea any way Isabel will serve it in her hasty attempt to imitate him: sometimes too sweet, sometimes too cold. He cleans then, while they’re helping themselves to bread. He’ll eat later, he always says, his broom sweeping around the floor in quick, decisive motions. Even on the weekends, when the rest of the Underground takes a moment to slow down, Levi is up with the dawn- at least, what they think is the dawn. Farlan has only risen before Levi once or twice, and those were rare, restless nights when he couldn’t sleep anyways.

He’s curious, then, when Levi sleeps in on a summer morning. He waits for him to get up, to tell them what they need to do today, to clean up after them and take care of them. He makes a second pot of tea and waits some more. When Isabel stumbles into the front room, yawning, Farlan is furiously, anxiously sweeping the floors.

“What are you doing?” she mumbles, a hand covering her mouth as she yawns. It takes her a moment to process the scene. “Where’s Big Brother?”

“He hasn’t gotten up yet,” Farlan mutters. He sweeps dust out of a corner and smacks his hand against the wall. “Fuck.”

Isabel meanders around the small kitchen, gathering tea and toast before she comes back over to stand and watch Farlan clumsily sweep. “Are you sure he’s still in there?” she asks. “Maybe he left before you got up. He does that sometimes.”

“He wouldn’t leave and not tell me beforehand,” Farlan says. “Besides, I saw him in bed this morning. He’s definitely still in there.”

Isabel munches on her toast. “Maybe he’s still sleepy.”

She suddenly drops her toast and turns to him with a look of horror. “What if he’s dead?” she spits out.

“He’s not dead,” Farlan exclaims. “He’s probably just- fuck it, I’m not having this. Levi?”

The broom clatters against the floor behind them as they burst into the small bedroom, both of them wide-eyed and frantic. Farlan feels idiotic, childish, the minute he sees Levi there, still sleeping, still breathing, but he couldn’t help but panic. He doesn’t know what they would do without Levi.

“Big Brother,” Isabel whispers, not very quietly, as she tiptoes over to his bed. She peers over him, her curious eyes wide and blinking. “Are you awake?”

Levi shifts and grumbles. He’s lying on his side, turned away from them, with a thin blanket pulled up over his shoulders. Farlan lingers by the doorway as Isabel clambers onto the bed beside Levi, the lumpy mattress sinking beneath her weight. She paws at him, and he grumbles again.

“Go away, Isabel,” he mumbles. “I’m just sick.”

“Sick?” she exclaims, looming over him. She presses a hand to his forehead. “You never get sick. You feel warm. Did you catch something?”

“I’m fine,” he mutters. He lets her feel his forehead, check his eyes, play docor. “It’s just a bug. I’ll be gone tomorrow.”

Isabel accepts that reluctantly, only because Big Brother doesn’t lie to her. Farlan takes a few steps forward, his arms crossed, and when she is done adjusting Levi’s blankets, he steps up to the bed and touches her shoulder.

“Why don’t you run down to the well?” he asks, gesturing to the door. “Draw some fresh water for us.”

She perks up. “Sure, if it’ll help. I’ll be right back!”

He waits until he hears the front door rattle shut, and then he sits gingerly on the edge of the bed. Levi mumbles something unintelligible, but Farlan gets the distinct impression he is being shooed out of the room. He doesn’t leave.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, furrowing his brow as he peers over Levi. “Are you really sick?”

“Leave it, Farlan.”

“Isabel said you feel warm. It has to be something, if you’ve got a fever.”

He leans over and reaches across to feel Levi’s forehead, but he stops cold when he catches sight of a thick, purple bruise on Levi’s collarbone. Farlan feels a chill run through his shoulders.

“What’s that?” he asks, reaching down.

One of Levi’s hands escapes from underneath the blanket to smack Farlan away. “It’s nothing.”

“It looks like a bruise”

“It’s just a bruise.”

“You said it was nothing.”

“I’m covered in bruises,” Levi mutters, pulling the blanket up over his shoulders, “and so are you.”

He's talking about the red lines that the 3DMG has left behind on their skin, but Farlan knows exactly where those bruises live, and he knows when Levi is lying.

“I don’t have any bruises right there,” Farlan says. He pulls himself up further onto the bed, pressing closer to Levi. “It’s not a cut, is it?”

“It’s just a bruise.”

“I thought it might be infected, if it was a cut,” Farlan says. He watches a bead of sweat roll down Levi’s temple, and he dots it away with the cuff of his sleeve. Levi grumbles. “You’ve caught something bad.”

“I told you, it’s just a bug.”

“You were fine yesterday,” Farlan says, but as soon as he does, he knows it is not true. “Albeit… a little grumpier than usual.”

He just thought Levi had been tired or restless or a combination of the two. They had been laying low for a few weeks, nearing on a month now, and while Levi was better at hiding his impatience than Farlan and Isabel, he was also ready to get back out there. The MP had gotten wind of an illegal trading ring in the Underground, and they had dedicated their soldiers to rounding up all involved parties. Levi had nothing to do with it, but he insisted that they keep their heads low for a while, just until the raids were over. Since then, they’d been forced to keep their 3DMG out of sight.

Farlan thinks back. It was three nights ago that Levi stumbled home in the wee hours of the morning, rousing Farlan from sleep with his haggard footsteps. He would have thought Levi drunk, if he had ever known Levi to drink. He had thought, in his sleepy haze, that perhaps there had been some kind of scuffle between the street brats and Levi had taken care of it, like he always did. He hadn’t thought anything else of it before he drifted back to sleep.

“What did you do?” Farlan asks softly.

Levi doesn’t answer.

“You went to see someone.”

“If you’re going to say it, just say it,” Levi grumbles. “Don’t bother beating around the bush, especially not when you’re calling me a whore.”

The word stings Farlan. It’s not a word he’s ever heard Levi use, and he’s not surprised, given the little he knows about Levi’s childhood. But Farlan is from the Underground too, and he’s eaten meals bought with money earned from an unspoken service. It’s decent enough money to feed a child, if nothing else.

“I wasn’t going to call you a whore,” Farlan says quietly. “I was going to ask you why.”

Levi says nothing.

Farlan tucks the blanket underneath Levi’s shoulders and lies down beside him, pressing their bodies together. Levi mumbles incoherently, but he does not protest when Farlan wraps an arm around his stomach.

“You’re not just sick,” Farlan mutters. “You’ve caught something.”

“I thought I told you to leave it.”

“You’ve caught a disease,” Farlan says. He reaches up to feel Levi’s forehead with the back of his hand. “This isn’t going to go away.

“Stop making shit up,” Levi insists. “It’s just a bug.”

Farlan pulls his hand away with a sigh. “I thought you had stopped doing that,” he says softly. “I thought you had stopped a long time ago.”

Levi coughs. “Desperate times…”

“We’re not desperate,” Farlan says. He finds Levi’s hands under the blanket and he grabs them, holding onto them tightly. “We’re doing better than we ever have, even with all the raids going on. We have enough money saved that if you needed something, you could have gotten it without resorting to this, and you know that. The 3DMG have gotten us so far-”

“Isabel’s gear was stolen,” Levi mutters.

Farlan sits up. “What?”

“It’s gone,” Levi says miserably. He’s facing the wall, and his voice is muffled, but Farlan can hear the guilt in every word. “She left it on the back steps and someone stole it.”

“She shouldn’t have left it out in the open,” he says instinctively.

Levi shakes his head. “I told her to leave it there. I meant to take it inside, but those stupid fucking rats were everywhere, and I just wanted them gone. I forgot. By the time I remembered, it was gone.”

Farlan hesitates, watching as Levi breathes, labored. “But she was cleaning her gear yesterday,” he says. “You were there, you saw her-”

“That’s my gear,” Levi mutters. “She doesn’t know.”

“Does she know about _this_?” Farlan asks, leaning over him.

Levi looks up at him for the first time; his gaze is miserable and tired, and the bags under his eyes are thick and dark. “No,” he says, “and you’re not going to tell her.”

He wrangles an arm out from under the tightly wound blanket and produces a small leather purse. “I got enough for you to bribe the MP dealer without touching our savings.”

“Levi-”

“That’s a collective fund, and Isabel will smell something if we take out that much money.”

“We?” Farlan says weakly as Levi forces the purse into his hand. It weighs heavily in his palm, and he feels guilty for even holding it. “This was your idea, and I don’t approve.”

“I don’t care if you approve,” Levi grumbles. He ducks back under the blanket and curls up tighter. “Set up a meeting with the dealer.”

“Are you going to be there?” Farlan asks. He leans over Levi to brush his hair back from his forehead. “You’re sweating like crazy.”

“Don’t worry about me. Just get a new set of gear before she notices anything.”

“You know that’s not going to be easy,” Farlan says, glancing down at the purse, “even with this. Remember what he said last time? He was only able to get it to us because that model was being replaced. A new set of gear will cost us.”

“I got enough,” Levi mumbles. He rolls away from Farlan and takes the blanket with him, hugging it around his body. “Now, _go away_ , like I asked the first time.”

He has to stop to catch his breath when he closes the bedroom door. The house is quiet without Levi’s incessant cleaning, without Isabel’s noise and laughter. Farlan glances around, suddenly tired, suddenly so sad, and quietly stows the leather purse into his pocket. He’s seen Levi dejected like that before, but not in a while and never so bad. No matter how better their situation has gotten, no matter how much the 3DMG has helped them, they still live in the Underground.

He jumps when the front door swings open and Isabel darts in, water sloshing out of the pail that she carries on one shoulder.

“Careful,” Farlan says, reaching forward to help her. “You’ll get water everywhere.”

“I’ve got it,” she exclaims, and when she lowers the bucket, she looks up at him expectantly. “What’s wrong with him? Is it the flu or something?”

Farlan does not have the words to tell her the truth, but even if he did, he could never say them to Isabel. “He’ll be fine,” he says as she sets the bucket on the table. “He probably just ate something bad.”

Isabel wipes the sweat from her brow. “He’s so careful about what he eats. Are you sure he’s okay?”

“Yeah,” Farlan says. “We just need to let him rest. How about making some stew?”

Levi is out of bed that evening, redoing Farlan’s sloppy broom work by the light of the candles, but he walks gingerly, taking cautious steps and avoiding Farlan’s knowing gaze. He takes his tea the way Isabel insists, with a spoonful of honey, and he vomits in the alley that night to avoid waking her up. Farlan says nothing, just hands him a cloth to wipe his mouth, then drags him back inside for the bedrest he needs.

They don’t speak about it again, not until the next evening. Isabel falls asleep on the couch after another long, boring day, and Farlan takes a reprieve outside before going back in to drag her to bed. He finds Levi sitting on the steps of their little house, leaning against the rock wall that their neighborhood is built into. He’s watching the kids on the street below theirs; the street lamps are still lit, and the kids are playing their favorite ball game. Farlan watches from the doorway for a while, as the kids throw the ball and cheer with glee. Their cries echo through the hollow streets, and it is a bittersweet reminder of the childhood they never had.

Farlan crosses down the steps and joins Levi on the ledge where he sits. He says nothing at first, just sits down and lets his legs dangle over the edge, watching the way the shadows of his feet flicker on the street below. When the silence becomes unbearable, he finally looks up.

“Can you just tell me why?” he asks suddenly.

Levi glances down at him; his face is pale and taut. “What?”

“Why _that_?” Farlan asks. “There are so many other ways to get money.”

Levi sighs and turns away without answering.

“I’m serious,” Farlan says. “You don’t have to put yourself through this kind of shit every time we need money. We do that together, and we do it without hurting ourselves. I did like you asked- I set up the meeting with the MP dealer, so the least you could do is explain to me.”

“It’s easy,” Levi says, cutting him off.

Farlan blinks. “…what?”

“It’s easy,” Levi repeats, “and it’s good money.”

He leaves that there, as if it explains everything.

“I wouldn’t call that easy,” Farlan exclaims. “You could barely move. You haven’t eaten in two days.”

“It’s what I know how to do, Farlan,” Levi says. “Can we leave it at that?”

“You’d lose your fucking shit if Isabel sold herself like that,” Farlan says: dangerous words that come out before he can stop them, but he’s prepared for their impact. He doesn’t flinch when Levi turns around and punches the wall.

“Don’t fucking say that,” Levi hisses. He spins around to face Farlan. “She’s a child.

“She’s as grown as I am,” Farlan exclaims. “She acts like a child because we coddle her.”

“I’d kill either of you if I ever found out you were getting yourselves into that shit,” Levi exclaims. He stands over Farlan, on the steps above him. He raises his bloodied fist, the knuckles bruised and weeping, and he points it directly at Farlan. “Don’t fucking talk like that.”

“You’re not setting a great example,” Farlan, pushing further. He pushes too far.

“I know what I’m doing,” Levi says, “and I wish to hell and back that I didn’t. You think I want to let some pig touch me? I wanted to kill him every single minute of it, and I wish that I had, now that I know what you think of me. I only did it for Isabel, because it’s my fault that her gear was stolen, and I had to make it right. Don’t ever fucking say that again.”

Farlan feels ashamed, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping for that reaction. “Fine,” he says, and Levi deflates, as if remembering his pain. “I’m sorry for poking. I’m just trying to look out for you, the way you do for us.”

Levi stands there for a moment, quiet, before he turns to go back into the house. “You don’t have to look out for me,” he says. Then he steps inside and he’s gone.


End file.
